


It's Automatic, Honey

by prouvairablehulk



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-17
Updated: 2017-07-17
Packaged: 2018-12-03 05:35:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11525607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prouvairablehulk/pseuds/prouvairablehulk
Summary: This is definitely not how Leonard Snart was expecting his evening to go.Jury’s still out on how he feels about it, however.





	It's Automatic, Honey

This is definitely not how Leonard Snart was expecting his evening to go. 

Jury’s still out on how he feels about it, however. 

The team had needed some advanced technology from a future time that’s a little eerily like Firefly, and Mick and Len had found themselves in charge of plotting a heist more complicated than any they’d pulled in years. It helps that the Len who came out of the Oculus was about twenty years physically younger than the Len who went in – a fact Mick was still teasing him about – but there were six stages to this plan and Mick and Len needed to be together for the next one. Which is why Mick’s on the dodgy side of the city, right on the border of the Red Light district, dressed like a well-off businessman, meeting Len in an alley while Len’s done up like th down on his luck thief-turned-rentboy he’d needed to pretend to be to earn the trust of the leader of the criminal underground. 

“I think I’m being tailed.” Mick says. “That could fucking blow the game.”

“You’ll come up with something.” says Len, because it’s true. Mick’s ad libs have saved more jobs than Len’s plans have. “I got the timeline information we needed, so we can absolutely convince anyone that you’ve got the insider trading we need. We’ve got Amaya waiting as backup at his club. We just need to get you in.”

“With the intel.” says Mick, frowning. “We don’t have much time.”

“You’ve got incoming.” hisses Jax over the coms in their ears. 

“What’s the play?” Len asks Mick, more than happy to trust him, just the way he’s been trusting Mick since the day Mick saved him from a knife between his ribs. 

Mick crowds Len up against the wall of the alley and curls a hand around his throat. 

“Are you sure?” he purrs, a pitched whisper for a newly arrived audience. Len shudders – a move that’s nowhere near as faked as he’s sure Mick’s voice is – and nods a little. 

“This is not where I was expecting to find you, Mister Rory.” says Jonathan Leodegrace, eyebrow climbing to his perfectly manicured hairline. “And definitely not with a common whore.” 

Len bristles a little at the slight, and he can tell that Mick notices. 

“He’s not a common anything.” says Mick, smirk firmly in place. He steps back and lets Leodegrace get a good look at Len. 

“I’ll grant you that he’s uncommon pretty.” 

Len huffs. For all the benefits of being young and less worn by age, having people constantly commenting on his cheekbones may in fact not be worth it.

“He’s uncommon mine, too.” says Mick.

Oh no. Oh no no no, that is very bad.   
Look, Mick saved Len’s life when he was 14 and then Len had to grow up watching Mick be beautiful and unattainable two steps away from him – Len’s Thing for Mick is so big you could probably see it from space. There is not a chance they make it out of this without Mick finding out. 

“In this part of town? He’s lying to you, Mister Rory.”

“We’re finishing up a rather important negotiation, Mister Leodegrace. One which would grant a certain amount of – exclusivity.” 

Len swallows hard. He can see where Mick’s plan is heading – it would allow them to cover the passing of the intel Len’s got his hands on, would get Mick – and Len – into the club, would allow them to finish the job. It might just kill Len based solely on the sexual frustration in the meantime. 

“Oh?” says Leodegrace. 

“My lovely little pet here decided that he’d take me up on my offer. Isn’t that right?”

Len’s got some very vivid images of what that offer might be. It’s rather – appealing. Len should – really be more honest with himself. It’s terribly hot. He’s not really sure what to say in response, so he nods, mute. Mick’s smug smirk stays in place. 

“And what kind of offer is that?”

“I do believe,” says Mick, slow and soft, “that I offered to take care of him, keep him happy at my beck and call, in my bed.” 

Len shudders a little. He’s selling the con, he tells himself, selling it and nothing more. 

“Did you now?” says Leodegrace. Mick’s pitching it perfectly, selling the fantasy, the idea that Mick could own Len completely. It fits the narrative Len’s been building, too, a perfect escape from the end of his luck. It’s exactly what Leodegrace wants to hear. It is – says a voice in Len’s head that he does a good job of quashing most of the time – what Len wants to hear too. 

“All right, Mister Rory.” Leodegrace says, head tilted towards Mick and Len after a beat of quiet. “Why don’t you bring your new boy and we can talk it over at the club?” 

And Mick had wrapped an arm around Len’s waist and Len had – just gone. He’d leant into Mick and clutched at his shoulder like he’d always wanted to and just gone where Mick led. Leodegrace runs the city’s premier nightclub, and Len can see Amaya at the bar, surrounded by drinks hopefully sent by men who had no hope of taking her home. Mick and Leodegrace take seats at a booth in the VIP section, and Len slides himself comfortably into Mick’s lap, burying his face in Mick’s neck. It’s easy enough to slip Mick the relevant details, and Mick’s hand is sliding up and down Len's back under his shirt, and Len's beginning to have trouble focusing on the conversation. It's just as well they've gone from the grilling to make sure Mick's legit to the negotiations - Mick's got those handled without Len's help, so Len's welcome to indulge in a little fantasizing while helping to sell the story. 

It's easy enough to imagine a world where this is the truth - where Mick's the suave smuggler and Len's trying to get Lisa through her ice skating training without their Dad getting involved again. They probably met at a bar like Saints and Sinners, with Len turning tricks for a little extra cash - it's not like Len hasn't done it in the past. He wonders, off-handedly, if this version of Mick would have been rough or gentle to start. Maybe rough, a hard, fast thing in the alley out back, Len clutching at the space where the mortar had flaked out from between the bricks while he moaned, Mick pounding into him from behind, not even bothering with a reach-around to get Len off. And then gentle later, three or four sessions in, on some huge expensive hotel bed, Mick spending a weekend spoiling Len with long, slow screws and room service steak because Len had got under his skin. He can almost feel it, one of Mick's hands pinning Len's wrists, the other braced against the bed, Mick rocking into him with deep, dragging thrusts and Mick's rumbling voice airing filthy thoughts at a gravel-low pitch. That would be when it slipped out - Mick's offer, the one to keep him. It would have been dirtier than the summary Mick gave Leodegrace, a half-threat to keep Len chained to the headboard for Mick to use whenever he wanted to, money and food and a warm home in exchange for serving as Mick's personal whore -

Len swallows hard and forces himself to still his hips in reality, catching himself before he starts grinding against Mick's thigh where he's straddling it. Out of the daydream, it's clear Mick and Leodegrace are finalizing the deal, and Leodegrace laughs at a joke Mick's just made and excuses himself to get some champagne. 

"Do I want to know what you're thinking about?" Mick says, low in Len's ear, once Leodegrace is gone. "Or should that question be who you're thinking about?" 

Len winces a little, glad the bar as a whole can't see his expression. 

"That depends on how you feel about this whole scenario." Len says, finally. 

"I came up with it, didn't I?" says Mick. It's annoyingly close to a non-answer. There's silence between the two of them for a moment. Len ponders how he'd feel if he lost Mick without ever telling him how he felt - ponders the implication of Mick's statement. 

"What if I was thinking about you?" Len says, finally. 

Mick's hips twitch up, and he bites back a moan - and Leodegrace comes back. 

"We are talking about this, later." Mick hisses, and then takes the flute of champagne and gets to closing the deal. Len smiles into his neck, rolls his hips into Mick's thigh, and kisses his way up Mick's neck. When they leave, it's with Len pinned to Mick's side by the arm Mick has around his waist. 

Sara wants to debrief, once they're back on the Waverider. 

"Later." says Mick, and hauls Len straight past her and into his room. 

"Talk." he tells Len, when they're sitting next to each other on the shallow bunk. "Right now. What did you mean, exactly." 

Len - talks. He tells Mick about the whole fantasy, about how much he'd love it, love Mick to own him, to be in charge. 

"Why?" says Mick, suddenly. "Why would you do that?"

"I trust you." says Len, and Mick's eyes dilate even further, as though Len had said something filthy, not divulged an age-old truth. 

"And you'd trust me with this too?" says Mick, one hand floating up to frame Len's face. Len nods, throat tight for reasons he can't quite explain. 

"You - cut through everything in my head." Len admits, hands clenching in his lap. 

"Do you want to try?" 

Len snaps his face around to meet Mick's eyes. 

"Only if you really mean it. I can't handle you faking this."

"I mean it, Lenny. I'd keep you as mine forever if you'd let me." 

Len's heart flutters in his chest in a way he hadn't known it was still capable of. 

"Then yes, I want to try it." 

"Gideon?" says Mick, without breaking eye contact with Len. 

"Yes, Mister Rory?"

"Lock the door. And cease surveillance." 

"Yes, Mister Rory." 

Len rubs his palm over his thigh, still smarting where he'd pinched it. Fuck, this is really happening. 

"On your knees, now, pet." says Mick, and Len goes, sliding off the bed and shuffling forward on his knees until he's got Mick's muscular thighs braced on either side of his shoulders. 

"Good boy." murmurs Mick, hands coming up to cup the back of Len's head. "You're going to be so good for me, aren't you?" 

Len nods, a little frantic. 

"And you're all mine, too, mine to keep and to use, isn't that right, pet?"

Len nods again, and Mick hums, content. One hand drifts back from Len's head to thumb open the button on his slacks, and then returns to stroke over Len's scalp. 

"Put your hands behind your back, pet, and keep them there." Mick orders, and Len does, locking his fingers around his wrists to make sure they don't move. 

"Good. Now come here and get this zipper down for me." 

Len rocks forward on his knees, gets his teeth around the zip, and pulls. Mick moans, low and heady, as Len does and it's the greatest sound Len's ever heard. Mick guides him back and pulls himself out, one hand keeping Len close, and then pulls him a little closer. 

"Stick out your tongue for me, pet. I want to fuck that pretty mouth of yours." 

Len does it without thinking, and then keens when Mick pulls him a little further forward and shoves his dick almost all the way down Len's throat. He can feel himself gagging a little and he doesn't even care, letting Mick rock himself in and out, knowing that it would make Mick happy. There's a kind of zen settling over him, a feeling like cotton wool wrapped around his brain that dulls the urgency of his arousal, and when Mick thrusts in again, Len moans. 

"Up." says Mick, pulling all the way out and letting go of Len's head. "Up and strip." 

Len does as he's ordered, and when he's done, Mick's naked too, with supplies and a coil of rope at his side. 

"You want to be mine?" Mick asks, and the look on his face is hungry and satisfied all at once. 

Len nods, not trusting his voice. 

"That means I'll be in charge of what we do, and when you come. Understood?" 

Len nods again. 

"Then give me your hands." 

Len does, and Mick uses the rope - made out of soft silk that feels incredible against Len's skin - to tie his wrists. Then, with hands on Len's hips, he guides Len into straddling his spread legs, settling Len's bound arms around his neck. 

"Stay, pet." says Mick, and slicks up two fingers. 

Len gasps when they brush against his entrance, and it takes no time at all for Mick to be scissoring him open. Mick uses his free hand to spank Len hard when he tries to fuck down more on those spread fingers, and Len shivers. 

"So greedy, pet, no wonder you're a whore. Don't worry, you're going to get exactly what you want." 

Len shudders and whines at the words, and Mick shoves in a third, making Len's back arch. 

"Ready, pet?" Mick asks, after a few minutes of Len mewling as Mick brushes soft strokes against his prostate. 

"Yes -" Len keens, and Mick slips his fingers out. 

"Then ride me, pet." 

Len moans, loud and full, and it only gets louder when he's sinking on to Mick's dick, which is thick and fills him up perfectly. 

"That's it, pet, ride me hard. Take what you want, honey, show me how desperate you are." 

Len's thighs burn from exertion but it's so perfect he can't help the sounds coming out of his mouth, high and soft. 

"Such a pretty little whore." Mick murmurs. "So desperate. And all mine. My gorgeous wanton little whore." 

Len moans at that, slams himself down and grinds Mick's dick against his prostate. 

The world spins for a moment, and then Len's on his back, Mick over him and still deep in him. There's something almost feral in Mick's eyes and Len wants more of it. 

Mick fucks him hard and deep and Len knows the nails of his bound hands are leaving bloody crescent moons in the skin of Mick's nape. Every thrust is hitting Len's prostate and he's sobbing with how close he is, wet little sounds that hitch to silence whenever Mick fucks into him, and it's perfect. 

"Alright, pet, I've got a choice for you." Mick says. "I'm going to come, and it's up to you whether it's on you or in this tight little ass of yours." 

Len gasps, images of each option springing easily to mind. The thought of his own come eventually mixing with Mick's is definitely hot, but the idea of it dropping slowly out of him - it makes him shake. 

"In me, please." Len says - no, begs. "Please, Master, in me." 

There's a beat where neither of them move, just processing what came out of Len's mouth. Then Mick makes a noise like he's dying and fucks into Len double time. 

"What you do to me, pet, holy fuck." Mick growls, and then he throws his head back and Len whines as Mick comes. 

Mick pulls out before Len has much chance to react, and tosses one arm over Len's hips while sliding three fingers of the other straight back into him, rubbing hard against Len's prostate. Len whines and thrashes and bucks his hips because it's so good, it's so good and he's so close and he just needs -

"Touch me, please, Master, please-" 

"You don't need that, do you, pet? You're a good whore, and good whores can come just like this." Mick purrs. 

Len makes a noise that's nearly inhuman and rolls his hips down against Mick's hand. 

"Come on, pet. Can you come like this for your master?" 

Len sobs out a yes, and then screams as Mick rubs harder and he comes. 

Mick's fingers slip out with a faint squelch, and he pulls Len into his arms. 

"Good boy, you're so good to me, Lenny." he coos, holding Len close. Len smiles, soft and dopey, and lets himself float. 

"So." says Len, when he wakes up from the nap he'd taken on Mick's chest. 

"That was fucking fantastic." says Mick. 

"Yeah." says Len, snuggling a little more into Mick. Mick's arm constricts a little, holding him tighter. 

"Can we - do it again? Preferably a lot?" 

Len smiles. 

"Sure we can. I'm all yours, remember? Exclusively."

Mick laughs, and something that might be happiness settles into Len's chest.


End file.
